


The Furby Incident

by KathyRoland



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: BAMF Phil Coulson, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyRoland/pseuds/KathyRoland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pepper is gone, Tony tries his hand at being a mad scientist, Coulson is a badass, and Bruce is wondering why he agreed to live at Stark Tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Furby Incident

**Author's Note:**

> This is a response to a prompt located at http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/11065.html?thread=23467833#t23467833

Tony stared into the box of toys.

The box of toys stared back at him.

“Hey, Jarvis?” He attempted a casual tone and failed as his mind perused hundreds of ideas, discarding some whilst improving upon others.

“Sir?”

“How long since my last evil deed?”

The AI was long suffering when he replied. “Over three weeks, sir.”

Tony grinned manically and started pulling out the toys.

Later that day Bruce went by the lab on his way to his own rooms and walked slightly faster when he heard the mad cackling issuing from behind the door. Even if he was physically indestructible, he was not mentally indestructible- it was best to stay away when Stark got into one of his “moods”. 

 

Clint knew it was going to be a bad night when Coulson stormed into their rooms with a severe frown on his face and his tie askewed. 

Clint didn’t worry about the frown; Coulson had a job that would send any other man attempting it to an insane asylum within a few hours. The less than perfect state of his suit, however, worried Clint more than he could possibly describe. The last time Coulson had allowed his clothing to be in less than perfect shape, he had just finished fighting his way out from the afterlife. Apparently Hel did not provide dry cleaning. 

Wordlessly, Clint turned the TV in their rooms to the latest trashy reality show Phil had gotten addicted to and rose up to pour the man a beer. 

Handing over the glass, he noticed a minute twitch under Coulson’s right eye. 

He was a trained SHIELD sniper, and despite his burning curiosity he knew when to keep his patience and wait for the target to out itself into the open. The target in this case was information.

One word was enough to give him a very good grasp of the situation, if not the nuances behind it.

“Stark.” The man’s name was uttered as a profane curse.

When the pint was half gone, Coulson elaborated.

“He has trained some Furbies to handle all communication in and out of Stark Tower. Anyone calling, from press to the President now finds themselves conversing with a Furby over the phone.” 

There was a silence for a time, stunned on Clint’s end and murderous on Coulson’s end. 

“Stark had the president of the United States trying to reason with an AI which kept on demanding “food and pets and love and goodness and the immediate destruction of the color brown.” 

Clint tentatively patted Phil on the shoulder, knowing nothing he said could make this better.

“Then one called Fury to confirm a scheduled meeting.”

Clint grew afraid, very afraid.

“Stark.” The word was a guttural threat on the man’s existence.

 

Natasha could either sleep through a nuclear blast and not wake or she could be up and battle ready within a moment if someone’s breathing changed. When she was at Stark Tower, she tended to sleep deeply, knowing she was in one of the most secured buildings in the world. 

This did not prevent her from waking up abruptly at the sound of Clint’s screams in the hallway.

She was out of the room with two guns tracking any movement within moments, only to blink rather stupidly at the sight in front of her.

Clint was running through the halls screaming and cursing and waving his arms widely trying to catch three flying… furbies, her mind was a giant question mark at this point, as they flew off with his battle bow. 

“I kill you!” He screamed lunging at them as they used miniature thrusters to burst ahead slightly out of his reach, then execute a sharp turn around him and go in the other direction.

“May the odds be in your favour!” Came the chorus from the three toys ahead of him, made even more disturbing in that their mechanical voices where so highly pitched and child-like.

Clint was literally hopping mad at this point and Natasha leaned against the wall with a slight smirk on her lips as she watched the scene of her partner running back and forth in the hallway, naked save for some sleep pants trying to catch the trio of insane robots.

Sensing new movement behind her, she turned her head to see Coulson step out of their room and aim at the Furbies, an intense look in his eyes.

Three gunshots later and the furbies lay dead and in pieces on the floor. Clint snatched his bow and huffed as he stalked back into their room. 

Coulson contemplated the destroyed furbies on the floor for a moment before calmly firing three more shots and obliterating any traces save for the ashes that remained. Then he too turned and walked back to their room, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

 

Bruce walked into the kitchen the next morning in search of breakfast and coffee when he heard Thor laughing heartily as there was a large thump ahead of him in the room.

He tentatively peered around the corner to see the site of Thor sitting at the table with a large grin splitting his face as he smashed a fuzzy and brightly coloured… was that a Furby with flight capabilities he wondered, into the ground and stomped on in, crushing the toy.

Another Furby flew up to take its place as more flocked around the broken one and dragging it away out of the room.

“Again, my furried friend? I hope I have not killed too many of your compatriots!” Thor cheerfully queried even as he hefty the new furby up.

“Just a flesh wound!” The chorus came from every furby in the room, which Bruce nervously estimated to be in the upper twenties with more flying in from the same place the broken ones were being carted off to.

“Indeed, my mighty friends! You have heart!” 

So saying, Thor smashed another into the ground and watched as it was dragged off and another took its place.

Bruce edged away slipping out of the room before Thor saw him and requested the Hulk to join in. He needed to talk to Steve. Immediately. Only he had a chance at stopping the madness. 

 

Steve was cuddling a mound of cooing Furbies with a wide grin on his face when Bruce found him.

“Look at the new AI’s!” He exclaimed happily from under the pile. “Aren’t they swell?”

Bruce was once more rendered speechless with the day’s offerings to his vision. 

He opened his mouth, then closed it, not knowing where to start. Turning, he left the room of the purring furbies. Perhaps a day at the park was what he needed. Heading to the lift to get out of the insanity the permeated the tower, he was stopped in his tracks at the sight of Director Fury stalking out of the elevator like a man possessed with a black briefcase in his hand. Agents Coulson, Sitwell and Hill all followed him, each with murder in their eyes. Coulson had a slightly smoking experimental weapon in his hands.

First they stopped in the living room where Steve was. There was a brief silence, then a flurry of weapon shots, then the troop continued on with a shame faced Rogers following them. They stopped at the kitchen, from which more weapon discharges were heard along with Thor’s protestations before they left and continued to Stark’s Lab. 

Bruce joined a sulking Thor and saddened Steve as they followed the Agents through the labs. 

He watched as Tony looked up blurrily at the team that entered. 

“What?” He asked, the delighted grin on his face belying any ignorance of the situation.

“You are to deactivate any Furbies you have altered that still exist immediately.” Fury’s voice could cut through titanium. 

“Not my babies!” Stark gasped melodramatically.

“Now!” 

At Stark’s silent refusal, the director opened the briefcase and took out a mobile. Sitwell shifted slightly behind him nervously and Hill’s face became more stone like. Coulson smiled slightly.

Fury pressed a button and held out the phone to Stark.

Gingerly, Tony took the cell phone.

“Hello?”

There was a shocked silence from him. 

“Yes, I know you are supposed to be on vacation, Pepper.”

More silence.

“Yes I know it is to prevent a breakdown and I was not to invade your thoughts the whole time, let alone your hearing, but...”

More silence as he winced and held the mobile slightly away from his ear as a voice shouted at him.

“Yes, dear.”

More shouting.

“Sorry, dear. I’ll go and clean up my mess, yes?”

A slightly longer pause.

“Okay, I love-“ He paused and looked at the room. “She hung up on me.”

He glared at the director.

“Dirty tricks.” He muttered as he typed in a few lines of code to be broadcasted to any surviving toys.

The agents trooped out of the room in formation as their objectives had been completed. 

The other three Avengers shuffled out awkwardly as well, but not before Stark could be heard requesting Jarvis to start the clock again. 

Bruce didn’t want to know. It was better for him, really.


End file.
